Once upon a Midnight Dreary
by Black Rose25
Summary: My entry in to March Hare's BST contest. It's basically just a rewright of the night of Watson's Wedding, but from Holmes' POV... Evil Grin His thoughts durring that particular segment. Warning: Fluffy!


FINALLY! I've been typing this for ages, and it would have been up, like, last Monday, but I could *Never* find the spare time to type it out!! That, and Pirates of the Caribbean came out on Tuesday... MMM... Sparrow... But, anyway. Can you say Fluffy?!! So, this is an entry in to March Hare's BST fanfic contest. It starts right after Watson's wedding, and goes through the famous scene in the sitting room where Nona and Holmes almost... then Mrs. Hudson walks in... Yeah. Gotta be up there on everyone's favorites list. My thoughts on the Holmes reasoning behind that scene... So, it's from Holmes' POV, and... Yeah. Just review, and, if I'm lucky, I'll get to be in MIM!!! *I prefer denial to the harsh reality that everyone is a better author than me* But, review, and tell me what you think! This is my first Holmes POV fic, so, be kind. Flames were meant for roasting fluffy fluffy marshmallows, not toasting fluffy fluffy stories. Ciao!  
  
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. I don't own Holmes, I don't own Nona, I don't own the plot... Nope. Nothing. So, don't sue. All I have is half a can of grape fanta and a roll of duct tape, and no money for a lawyer. Plus, haven't Holmes and Watson been around long enough to be public domain? I'll check on that. So, on with the show!!  
  
*Holmes*  
  
I sighed, almost imperceptibly, as we four stepped out of the crowded restaurant, the gelid air soothing my flustered senses. The extensive practice of self control in my line of work was the only thing that kept my face from burning red at the memory of that toast... Everyone else just made it look so *Easy!* One would never suspect that I had spent the greater part of the night deciding how to properly celebrate my dearest friends marriage from the halting, awkward performance I had jus t put on. A sudden gust of chilling wind, however, brought me back to my senses. Heeding the call of propriety, I hailed a cab and held the door for the happy couple, wished them all my best on their honeymoon, then tossed the cab man enough change to pay for their trip to King's Cross, plus a handsome tip. I stood there on the curb watching until the cab turned a corner and disappeared from sight. A soft sigh to my side brought my thoughts homeward and heartward and I turned around to see Nona rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes. I had meant to say some profound, hopefully prophetic words at this point, but, as my thoughts still dwelt on that gauche toast, all I could think of was:  
  
"Nona," I said, "promise me you will never let me do that again."  
  
"What, the gift?" She looked up at me quizzically. Maybe there was some hope after all that the world might someday forget that performance. I almost hesitated to remind her of it, but, she was looking at me with that confounded smile...  
  
"The toast." If only she knew how much I would do for that smile... I don't know how I managed to keep my ears from again flushing at the sight of her trying only too hard to suppress laughter at the memory. For not the first time, I wished that she would not stifle her peals of laughter, each one like the ringing of a bell... I stood there for a moment, just savoring being the company of this angel, but she glanced up at me a second too soon for my liking.  
  
"Well, Holmes," she said simply, and too vaguely for me.  
  
"Well, Nona," I replied, equally vague.  
  
"Let's go home."  
  
"A capital idea," I responded, hailed a cab, and was thrilled when she took my hand, offered to help her in to the hansom.  
  
/*\  
  
The sights of home assailed me as I followed Nona through the front door. *It is past ten;* I thought while locking the door behind me. *Surely Mrs. Hudson will have turned in by now...*  
  
I was compelled to steady my hands as I mounted the stairs to the sitting room. *I am only following the proper scientific method...* I thought. *I have observed the data, formed a hypothesis, fabricated an experiment to prove or disprove that hypothesis, and am now proceeding to conduct that experiment.* Everything just seemed so much simpler when it was at the bottom of a test tube, or hidden in some complex formulae. Science has always been the same, and would always be so. I wish I could say the same for myself... Damn, confound these emotions! Somehow, I doubted that the results of ithis/i Experiment would be quite as vacuous as my chemistry work...  
  
I opened the door and saw her in the act of taking a book from the shelf. As she embraced the book to her breast, the gilded title caught in the low lamplight: "Romeo and Juliet." I had almost forgotten that I even had that book... I had been obligated to read it as a child, and had promptly forgotten almost all of it. I say *Almost,* because there was one scene that would always stay with me... One that, oddly enough, held some parallel to my current position...  
  
^But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?^  
  
"Goodnight, Holmes," she said, trying to brush past me to the door.  
  
Composing myself for the "Experiment" I had concocted, I spoke her name, low, and serious.  
  
"Nona," *It's just like a chemistry experiment* I thought. "Now that Watson has left these quarters, Nona, perhaps, you would care to take up residence in his room. It should provide a larger modicum of comfort for you." *This is not going to work... There are too many variables, too much unaccounted for!*  
  
"That's very kind of you," Nona replied, her anxiety floating off in waves, only serving to further my state of unease. "But," She continued, "I think that we should save it for Watson. Heaven knows that married life is no cakewalk; Watson will soon need to hide out here after some marital spat." What nonsense was this? Now she was just making excuses. Watson and Miss Morstan were the most joyous couple I had ever had the joy to see; there was no way that anything would ever force the two apart.  
  
"Well, then, we shall put him in the maid's quarters," I replied with a smirk, relishing the thought of Nona moving to the room next to me. Her next words, however, cast such thoughts out of my mind.  
  
"At least he won't be thrown out to freeze." No, not cast out. More like kicked out of a third story window, in to the cold, bitter snow below. A sudden scene flooded in to my memory: This same room... The gaslight was low... My vision was blurred, but there was one figure that I saw with mocking crystal-clarity. I watched, unable to stop, as Nona, her face horribly wrenched in pain and anguish, burst in to tears and fled the room. So *This* Is what I had so humbly begged her forgiveness for, those months ago at North Riding. I stood stock-still, and even her apologetic pleas could not draw that ghost from my closet, as the saying goes.  
  
"Oh, God, Holmes!" She stood beside me, aghast, and I still could not bring myself to look at her in the eyes. Eyes of such wonder and beauty should not be forced to gaze on such a lowly thing as I felt that moment. "I'm sorry!" She continued. "I don't know what came over me! Oh, forgive me, Holmes, that was stupid and cruel-"  
  
"And justified," I cut her off.  
  
"And- no, no, not at all! Not at all! I already forgave you, I truly did, but..." That hesitation cut me to the bone, and I feared more than anything what she would say next. "But... I fear that the effects are somewhat lingering." How long, then? How long would that one fateful night haunt my dreams? That night where, though I assure you that she did not need to, she *Proved* how much she truly loved me... If Watson was right, and she truly *Did* love me, undeserving of her adoration that I was. I still refused to look up, still gazing in to the fire, as she set her book down on the sideboard and came to stand by me.  
  
"And you, Holmes?" She said, her tone imploring me to turn my head towards her. "Have you forgiven me for the awful things I said to you?" Forgiven iHer??/i What transgressions had she committed? What harm had she ever done me? What cause had she to be the one apologizing? I turned to her in shock, forgetting my self-imposed detachment.  
  
"Forgive you? Perish the thought! I realize now that I deserved those imprecations, each and every one. Selfish, Stupid..." I trailed off, again in shock, when the Angel of Forgiveness taking her place next to me slid her hand in to mine. I held it tighter, fearful that it would slip away, that I would wake up, that it would all go away.  
  
"Only time can heal this kind of thing," She said. "Time and forgiveness. Still, maybe it will make you feel better to know that... that I was overjoyed to come back with you. Secretly, so secretly that I didn't even know, I wanted you to find me." I brought myself to look in to her eyes in amazement, only to be caught in them; swirling pools of emotion and anguish. It hurt me to know that I may have caused such anguish, such pain in this beauty...  
  
I held to her hand tighter as I took in this new piece of information. *She was not running away to be away from me,* I thought *Just from a situation that she did not know how to control. I should be the least worthy to find fault in that; after all, that is what I have done for most of my life.* I took a deep breath and let go of my control, for the briefest of moments, and let the words come pouring from my mouth, not caring, for the time, what I was saying.  
  
"I tried to cast you away," I said, without really understanding what was being said. "I tried to cast you from my mind, to rip you from my life and harden my heart against you, but it was no use." Of their own volition, my hand left hers and clasped it at the small of her back. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, and though reason tells me that I could not be sensing anything more than tepid warmth, it seemed like her very touch set my skin aflame, and left a blazing heat in it's wake. "Despite my efforts, Nona, I am but flesh and blood, and heir to all of the tortures thereof." It seemed as if my consciousness was spit twofold; half, or less, was actually iThinking,/i Listening to and understanding what was being said. The other half was drifting away, lost in the sensation of her scent, her warmth...  
  
^See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!^  
  
The few lines from that tale of love and tragedy drifted past my mind's eye, like a leaf in an updraft. Without my having anything to do with it, one of my hands left her waist and brushed a tentative hand across her face, following the same path along her jaw line as it had those months ago, on the night of the opera, the night that had shattered my every perception of reality. My stray appendage finally came to rest at the nape of her neck, and I slowly, hesitantly, leaned forward. I knew that she was saying something, but the exact words were lost on me; all my attention was focused on the isound/i of her voice, with no regard to what it meant. My eyes slipped closed as I turned my head to the side, the warmth of her breath across my cheek awakening desires that I though that I had buried forever. Steadying myself, I leaned in to close the final distance between us...  
  
A harsh Scottish brogue cut like the blade of a knife through to my ears, and sent a sudden jolt of lighting down my spine. "Mr. Holmes, will you be needing anything before-?" I had to focus all my energy on not squeaking, and so instead I felt a searing blush spread from my ears downward. As I turned and focused on Mrs. Hudson, I will admit that I did not think entirely kindly towards the matronly woman. Casting a fleeting glance over at Nona, I saw that she was too glaring daggers at the landlady, whose look was growing ever more grave.  
  
"Nona," she said, pointing in the direction of the stairs, "I think it be time for bed."  
  
"But I-"  
  
"BED!" Nona obviously felt unwilling to acquiesce to Mrs. Hudson's demands, but she dutifully turned to me and bid me goodnight, half to herself, I suspected. She turned her head only slightly, revealing again the glint of the gilded cover of her book. Seized by what was, in retrospect, a somewhat wanton urge, I leaned my head to her ear so that the ever-attentive Scotswoman standing impatiently by the door might not hear, I breathed:  
  
"Sleep govern thine eyes, peace in thy breast," Then turned and promptly stalked to my room. I must admit that the thought of stooping to the keyhole to listen to the exchange was tempting, but I had achieved my maximum of uncouth behavior that night, so was forced to resist. As it turned out, I would not have gained any from the action, for as soon as I had shut my door I heard the quiet sounds of the two descending the stairs to her room.  
  
A long sigh escaped my chest and I slumped my back against my door. I did not realize until then how very tense my visage had become. I shall not even begin to try to describe my thoughts at that point. My cognitive mind having been once more united with my emotive, the expanse of my mind was a very crowded place; one idea chasing on the heels of the next... After some time, I was forced to give it up as a lost cause, and sat down on my bed. I tried, for one of the very few times to clear my mind of the many trains of thoughts and emotions that had clouded it. Needless to say, I failed in the task. Like a bird back home, I kept returning to Nona, and what we almost did... Then, my sensitive ears caught the faintest sound of Mrs. Hudson locking the door for the night and closing her door. I t seemed like, signaled by the sound of the landlady's shutting door, all of my reason fled, and I stealthfully tread to the door and began edging it open, though I had no idea what I intended to do once I had achieved the task.  
  
"BED!!" Apparently I was not quite as clandestine as I'd hoped. Startled, I jumped back quickly, heedless to the slamming of my door as my hand refused to relinquish its hold on the knob.  
  
And so, I was left alone to reminisce on whether I heard an echo, or the violent shutting of another door downstairs...  
  
/*\  
  
So, there it is! I had some difficulty finishing it, so that part might sound kinda awkward, but on the whole, I like it! It's probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written, but, that's what I was going for, so that's a good thing. Consider this my Christmas present to all you peeps; I was gonna send you all fruitcakes via email, but all that candied pineapple would have fudged with the disk drive. Anyway, review, and I'll consider that MY Christmas present! *Please, no fruitcakes.* Cheers! 


End file.
